


a stick figure weighed down by an oversized crown

by Claudia_bm



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_bm/pseuds/Claudia_bm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone, presumably His Majesty, has drawn a stick figure weighed down by an oversized crown at the bottom of the page. Or, Raina Amell had but one doubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a stick figure weighed down by an oversized crown

King Alistair sighed contentedly where he was, lying bonelessly on a bench in the garden and feeling like a fat and lazy mabari. It was a beautiful summer day, bright and warm enough to lift the spirit and breezy enough to help stay that way all day. This was, King Alistair thought, the perfect weather to be dozing on the lap of the love of your life.

Raina was running her fingers through his hair absentmindedly while reading something. She had promised that it was just for enjoyment upon his protest against more work during their relax time. Although he had eyed the thick leather bound book with suspicion, he still gave in. Of course he did. Years ago he had remarked that she had him wrap completely around her fingers, and that still remained true to this day.

Ever since he became King, he had only had a handful of lazy afternoons to himself. Couldn’t afford more, to be honest. There was always some urgent matter to attend to, some important people to meet, and some attempts against him, or rather, his claim to the throne, to spoil. At least he could say his life was never boring. But today he had none of that. No duty, no headache, no forced smile and dry joke. Just him and his love, whom he hadn’t seen for more than half a year.

A bird chirped nearby. The tree rustled lightly in the wind. He could faintly hear the sound of water running from the fountain. Alistair exhaled slowly, snuggled closer to his love. She patted his head like one would to calm a child. He liked how she liked to play with his hair. She could spend hours and hours doing just that, petting him, massaging his scalp and twirling strands of blond hair around her fingers. Sometimes she would caress his cheek, touch his lips, or feed him a grape from a tray nearby. (It seemed wherever he went, there was always a tray of fruit. Alistair still didn’t know what to make of the apparent stealthiness of the maids.) She had chuckled at his indignant huff the first time she did so, saying she just wanted to spoil him every now and then. As if. She had been spoiling him pretty much since the day they had met, constantly and relentlessly. He wasn’t even sure she would stop if he asked her to. It was something she did so regularly, he didn’t think she noticed anymore. And, no, this wasn’t about just the grape. But then again, he didn’t have a strong particular desire to know the answer either.

Her fingers had always felt amazing. He had once or twice suspected that she used magic to help with his headaches, for whenever her fingertips touched him it was like all the knots in his head went unraveled. All the headaches went away. His head actually felt light instead of stuffed full with a thousand different things that needed to be processed. She had sworn up and down that was not the case, giggled, and called him a flatterer. She did blush a little too, a faint dusting of pink on her amber coloured cheeks. He realised he had missed that sight dearly.

Sometimes he wished he could just keep her by his side forever. He knew he couldn’t. She had duty of her own. Duty to the order and to herself. He still didn’t think there was, or ever would be, a cure for the taint. But whatever he might have said would not waver her determination anyhow, so he said nothing at all, and watched with heartache as she left the palace to embark on a journey that to him seemed hopeless.

His thought was interrupted by her sigh, barely audible but he picked it up among all the noises of the garden anyway. He had unusually good hearing, like an elf, or so he had been told. Brought out of his half slumber state, Alistair realised she was no longer holding the book, for her other hand was placed on his chest. He reached out to catch that hand and the one that had been combing through his hair stilled. He brought it closer to press a gentle kiss to the soft underside of her wrist. Her skin felt cool when it touched his lips, and the tangy smell of blood that he had unconsciously expected to find wasn’t there. In its place, there was a faint smell of Crystal Grace.

“You know I could hear you thinking, right? No thinking during relax time” He mumbled against her flesh. Raina chuckled. “That so?” She said and he made an affirmative noise at the back of his throat. Relax time, so that was what he had taken to call it now, as if it were ever that simple. She didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she started stroking his head with her thumb and he thought, uh oh. He was in for a talk. Alistair opened his eyes to search for hers. She was looking right at him and the emotions swirling in her eyes were not easy given names to.

“I just look at you sometimes and…” She sighed, seemingly didn’t know what words to use to voice her thought. She held his hand in both of hers and pressed it against her cheek. They both did this for comfort, it seemed. But he didn’t know if she was comforting him or herself. “And I don’t know if I had made the right choice making you King.” Alistair found himself grow cold at the words, horrified by the thought that she regretted making him King. Her. The one person he always thought about whenever he doubted his ability to rule, well, anything. She had thought he was worth something, and he took solace in the fact that she believed in him. To hear her say such a thing...

“You are, without a doubt, a great King. It was obviously the right choice for Ferelden. Look at how quickly it has recovered.” And just with that simple sentence, she chased away the doubt that had clouded his heart. He felt himself relax again unbidden, but she had yet to reveal the thing that troubled her mind. Alistair felt clumsy and tongue-tied, like he was again that fumbling twenty-year-old who had fallen in love for the first time trying to show his affection. He turned his hand so his palm cupped her face and she leaned into it without hesitation. “But I look at you, and I just... was it the right choice for you? You didn’t want this burden, and you didn’t want this life. I... I thought I knew what was best.”

Her fingers dug into his hand, holding on tightly. She had closed her eyes like she was afraid of what she would see on his face if she had them open. This was the girl who had faced down an Archdemon and an army of darkspawns when she was nineteen. “You were so wonderful but you refused to see it, because others had planted that seed of doubt in you. I just wanted to show them how great you were. I wanted to prove that they were wrong to doubt you. And, most of all, more than anything, I wanted you to know that you were capable of so much more than you had settled for.” She took a deep breath and when she spoke again her voice was lower. He did not doubt its sincerity. “And I would have gladly exchanged my life for that.” So that was why she had insisted to fight Loghain, and why she had instructed Morrigan and Zevran to kill both the Mac Tirs if she were to fail. The second bit Alistair didn’t know about until much, much later. It was a stupid move. “I was right.” She added, stubbornly. “I am right.” She had stopped clutching at his hand, but found herself unable to let go.

Alistair waited for his emotions to settle. He didn’t know what he would feel, but he wasn’t angry, or disgusted. He wasn’t petrified or even surprised. He felt... calm. At peace. This girl had had his back right from the start, believed in him when no one else, not even himself, had bothered to do so. He was happy, perhaps not quite the way she had thought he would be, but he was happy. He never wanted to be king, never wanted the responsibility, but he had made peace with it now. Meeting his father helped with that. He was a damn good King. He knew that now. As long as she remained by his side, he had no regret.

Alistair sat up, and Raina’s eyes flew open upon sensing his sudden movement. He just leant in and, taking advantages of the hand already placed on her cheek, drew her closer for a kiss. She all but melted against him. This is what you do to me, Alistair thought, I rule all of Ferelden but before you I am but just another fool enslaved by love. Alistair found himself longing for more contact with her. So he half encouraged, half maneuvered Raina to lie on him as he let himself fall back down onto the bench. They never broke the kiss. She was warm in his arm, and her weight served as a reminder that she was real, and here.

“Alistair.” She gasped when he ground his hardness against her. “Alistair, we’re in the garden.” He hadn’t forgotten that, but he couldn’t be bothered walking all the way back to the room either, not when she had him this worked up. Raina interrupted herself with a moan she had desperately tried to hold in when he pulled at the string that kept the dress together.

“Who cares, I am the King.” He said dismissively. Truth was he knew no one would come near this area. The guards he stationed at the entrance would ensure that. She laughed breathlessly, and when she looked at him this time he saw only love in her dark eyes. “Am I pardoned then, Your Majesty?” She asked shyly. Alistair kissed her again, powerless to resist those full pink lips. “Oh I don’t know, maybe I need a little more convincing.”

Raina sat up straight, and licked her lips mischievously. “Oh.” She purred, reaching for his belt. “I think I can manage that.”

~

Later, he would tell her how happy he was, how happy she had made him as he held her. Much, much later, he would let her go again with pain in his heart, but knew that she would always find her way back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> so... unbeta'ed again. Please feel free to point out any mistake you spot. Hopefully this is better than my last Alistair/Amell fic. Haven't had the courage to read that one again because it was so bad. Somehow this is my favourite Alistair pairing but I only ever write it when I'm highly emotional, which guarantees that I will feel embarrassed reading it later. 
> 
> This was inspired by my last playthrough of DAI with King Alistair. As you had realised this Amell stayed with him as his mistress, and he didn't marry Anora


End file.
